Fever
by D.VAncomycin
Summary: A short trip off planet results in more than they bargained for. D/G for y'all.


He wasn't quite sure what he was after on that last planet, when he had invited her to enjoy the mild afternoon in the flowering gardens and partake in an outdoor lunch after restocking supplies at the nearby seaside city.

Well, he kinda knew what he was after.

Sorta.

If he was honest, he thought, he had wanted to enjoy her company away from a frequently interrupting android and a crew member that heard everything within 3 parsecs, whether he meant to or not. It was strictly to catch up with someone his own age, and to check in with how the much more emotionally fragile teacher was doing.

Strictly business. Honest.

Still, he had teased her when she emerged from her quarters after cleaning up from the morning haul.

"A uniform? Really, Miss Davenport? This is strictly off the record," he said, gesturing to his own casual tunic and pants he had secured from cargo at some point.

She huffed. "It's a fine choice."

"Let your hair down a little, T.J.," he coaxed, "You rarely get the chance. Besides, you could use a little sunshine."

She frowned. "Oh, honestly," she sighed, but turned back to her quarters anyway. He waited a long 5 minutes before she re-emerged, sundress on.

"Happy now?" She glared.

More than I thought I'd be, he thought. What a difference a little color makes.

The slim, bare shoulders didn't hurt either.

Strictly business. Back to it, boy.

They made their way out to the lush gardens, to a tucked away path lined with food stalls. It had been difficult to communicate their order without knowledge of the native language, but they eventually procured food, and sat in a row of tables that bordered the fjord that led to a vast, turquoise ocean.

They discussed over the hours—of the crew and the ship and their latest encounter with a hostile species. Out of business to address, talk turned to more casual, personal topics, though neither was willing to do more than skim the surface. He didn't know why it had been lately that he felt a little trapped by this stalemate that always was; something about her unwillingness to delve into anything deeper than she needed to with him made him feel—what? Sad? Unneeded? Unwanted? And why did he care? The feeling bothered him, but the reaction to the feeling bothered him greater. He had to get to the bottom of either, one day, to soothe the niggling in his brain. He had thought to try a time or two to ask her to elaborate and trust him with her personal matters on a deeper level, but when he supposed he would have to return the favor, he found himself unwilling to let her see him emotional and vulnerable.

No, he was the Commander. The leader. He had to make sure that he had the faith and respect of his crew at all times. Even her. He could be that for her, should she ever choose to break down her thick walls, but he knew that until they were safely returned to UPP territory, he would have to rein it in.

Space hated overly emotional commanding officers.

And so they ended their meal in a comfortable, safe silence, and the questions left unasked that hung in the air left little time to be explored once they had seen the ship in sight, powered up, ready to leave. They both snapped into their working roles, headed for the spacewalk.

* * *

When Harlan strolled into the command post earlier than expected and looking uncertain, Goddard knew something was up.

"Shouldn't you be in class right now?" He asked his student.

"Well, yes," Harlan rubbed his neck, "But Miss Davenport called it off midway through."

Goddard was taken aback. T.J. would never willingly cancel a class.

"She wasn't looking too hot this morning," Harlan continued explaining. "Said she had a headache and didn't feel well. Rosie suggested she come to the medlab with her and get some meds and a little rest. She agreed, and told us to report for duties."

Goddard mulled this over. Davenport looked fine last night, and this WAS Harlan…

He paged Rosie in the Medlab. "Is Miss Davenport with you?"

"Yes," she replied, "She has a headache she can't shake. I gave her something a little stronger than the usual painkiller. It should resolve. I'll update you."

"Thank you. Please do," he replied, cutting the page.

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to you and Radu running some more advanced tactical maneuvers. The last skirmish was a bit dicey."

"Yes sir," Harlan replied, eyes sparkling at the thought of spending the rest of his morning piloting a starship rather than sitting in front of his compupad.

"She's been nauseous," Rosie explained later that evening from behind the mask she insisted all visitors wear. "I'm giving her a little IV fluid since she's been refusing intake. She says her headache is a little better, though."

Goddard nodded as he internalized the information. "Why do you suppose she's ill all of a sudden?"

"Couldn't say," Rosie shrugged, "Maybe she picked up something on planet. We'll see how tonight goes. Her symptoms are too general at this point to really narrow anything down. I'll let her rest and check in on her right before lights out."

"Thank you, Rosie. You're doing a great job."

She beamed brightly. "Thank you, Commander! I'm sure we'll see some improvement by tomorrow."

* * *

Goddard nearly hit the floor when he checked in early the next morning. Flashbacks to the Spung-Andromedan war came flying back to him when he saw her packed in cooling medpacks. They reminded him of the aftermath of a few of the more unfortunate battles, when the medlabs had run out of morgue space and cooled the corpses of the lost Stardogs left lying where they had died on their cots.

"Rosie!" He bellowed out.

She had been emerging from her side storage room with more medpacks in hand, and dropped them, startled by his sudden appearance. "Commander! You scared me!"

His eyes darted back to Miss Davenport, panicked. "She's not…?"

"Not what?" Rosie asked, gathering up the dropped packs.

"Dead?" He croaked out.

Rosie dropped the packs again, shocked, and waving her hands in front of her. "No, No! She's alive, of course!"

Goddard released a breath.

Rosie picked up the packs a second time. "She spiked a bad fever last night. The anti-pyretics I gave her helped slow down the rate her fever was climbing, but it's pretty high for a human and won't break. I decided to cool her down."

"Has she been conscious?"

"Yes, but she's a bit delirious, I'm afraid. It's probably the fever. She'll get better when I can break it."

Goddard nodded. "Good. Keep at it."

Rosie nodded back and placed the two packs at her teacher's feet.

"What are those?" Goddard asked, noticing the purple-red spots at her ankles as Rosie packed the remaining bit of her body.

"Petichiae," Rosie muttered, "Thelma and I discussed this along with the fever last night. We have a theory as to what might be going on."

"Good," he answered, relieved, "What's the likely diagnosis?"

Davenport shifted under the cooling packs, muttering "It's so bloody cold in here."

Goddard stepped up next to her. "Rosie needed it to be cool. Your body is very hot right now."

Of all things, Davenport giggled. "Commander," she slurred, "How nice of you. Not now though—I think there's a student around."

Goddard blushed when he realized his faux pas. "You're feverish. You haven't been feeling well."

"I feel better now that you're here. I've missed you since last night."

"You remember me stopping by last night?"

"Remember?" She grinned, sloppy yet impishly, "I would hope you didn't forget. We shared a bottle of fine wine before making sweet love."

The gaped. "T.J., what the hell?"

She giggled again. "You were amazingly skilled with your mouth. I owe you a return favor."

Goddard caught Rosie staring, and his face burned red.

"I…don't know where she's getting this," he said, flummoxed.

"It's the delirium," Rosie offered, slightly uncomfortable from the exchange, however made up it was, "She's been imagining all sorts of things. She thought Thelma was the Starcademy headmistress and cursed her out. She thought she was back on Kareesh 9. She's mistaken me for a unicorn. Twice."

*At least I'm not a unicorn,* he thought wryly. He took Rosie by the arm and led her away from the bed.

"Well, what are we dealing with here? Should we be worried that the crew will get it?"

"No. We believe its blood borne. We found an eschar on her shoulder last night," she said, showing him the image she had taken on her compupad, "It's what clinched the diagnosis for us. Apparently this sector has an invasive species of insect that is known to carry a viral pathogen during some seasonal cycles. This is the bite site."

The sight of the wound made his insides clench. There wasn't much to it, and it was clean and well taken care of by Rosie, but it's location on her shoulder made him ill.

Her bare shoulders had made it easy for her to get bitten while outside in the garden with him. And they were only bare because he had goaded her into it.

He shook himself clear of his guilt temporarily to listen to Rosie, who was trying to get his attention again. "Pardon?"

"The crew should be fine unless blood contact is made," she explained, before her face fell. "That's the end of my good news, I'm afraid."

"What? Why?"

"There's no cure for the virus, per se. I can only treat the symptoms as they come. There are several different waves of things to weather over about a week or so before the fever breaks and recovery begins, or…"

"Or?"

Rosie swallowed hard. "The fever has a…kinda unacceptable mortality chance."

"How bad?"

Rosie's eyes glistened with tears, but she held them back from falling. "About 50/50."

The knowledge stung. There was just as good a chance that he'd wake up tomorrow and Davenport would be gone as she would be here, delirious.

"Do all you can. You have authority to whatever you need," he ordered.

"I could use Thelma," Rosie explained, "She could keep watch when I get a little sleep at night."

"Done. She's yours indefinitely."

"Thank you."

"Keep me informed. I want immediate updates on any change in status."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The next morning, the cooling packs were gone, but Davenport still had a burning fever.

High, but holding steady, Rosie had explained before heading off to grab a little breakfast.

When Seth approached her, she still looked pretty terrible, with her hair matted in her head with sweat and her lips were dried and cracked. Nonetheless, when her eyes fluttered open and she smiled softly at him, he felt a little flutter of joy in his chest.

"T.J.? You with me today?"

She nodded. "Of course. When haven't I been?"

"Yesterday. You were delirious for a good portion of the day."

She looked shocked. "Was I?"

"Yeah," he said, "But it looks like you're turning a corner."

She mulled this over. "I feel terrible, but no worse than yesterday."

He sighed with relief. "That's fantastic news."

"Rosie told me this morning that you've been by to check on me regularly. I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing. Thank you, Seth."

He almost felt the need to crack—to tell her about the guilt he had for exposing her, for the shame he felt about not letting himself be too open and comforting to her in front of Rosie, and hell, if he was honest, for keeping his visits to several short checks during the day because more than a few minutes at a time watching her suffer was killing him from the inside. But he choked it all back, and nodded in response, the safe acknowledgement fit for a STARDOG commander. Fuck him.

"You weren't sickened?" She asked.

"No," he winced, "Rosie and Thelma seem to think it was an insect bite of some sort that caused all this. I wasn't bitten."

"A bite?" She repeated, "Where?"

"Your shoulder," he muttered, waiting for the onslaught of blame he so richly deserved.

"Oh," she replied, "That's why it's so damn itchy."

When the other shoe didn't drop, he didn't know whether to scream or rejoice.

"I apologize, Seth," she said, yawning, "I'm afraid I'm struggling to keep my eyes open at the moment. Perhaps when you come by next I'll be in better shape to talk longer. Somehow, it feels like ages since we've done so."

He felt choked up a little. "Yeah, I agree. I'll let you sleep, T.J.."

She smiled at him again. "Tell the students to do their homework. Their essay is still due next week. No extensions."

He chuckled. "No extensions. See you tonight, T.J.."

* * *

It was midday when Rosie paged him frantically.

"I need you to come down here immediately," she said, her voice thick with worry.

He had sped through the jump tubes into the medlab where Rosie was standing, fidgeting with a Compupad.

Behind her, Davenport was supine on the examination bed, curled into the fetal position, howling and sobbing.

"What happened?" He asked his young charge gruffly.

She shook her head, flustered. "She started having tremendous pain everywhere. I gave her everything—headache cocktails, NSAIDS, opioids, even some gabapentin if she might have had nerve pain. Nothing helps. I scanned her briefly and it looks like she's having small bleeds everywhere," she said as she turned the compupad towards him to show him her findings.

"You have to fix them."

Rosie shook her head. "I can't, but Thelma suggested that the healing chamber might be able to."

"So put her in!"

Rosie shook her head again, "You don't understand. The healing chamber heals INJURY. It does nothing for infection. When you were in it, you were lucky that since your injury was a crush injury focused below the waist, there was smaller chance for infection. She's injured BECAUSE of infection. If I put her in, I have to compromise my treatment of her viral symptoms to do it. This means no anti-fever or anti-viral medications. She probably won't be in there more than a day or two, but that's long enough if her fever spikes again. That's why I called you. I wanted your blessing before I put her in there."

His eyes wandered back to T.J., who was writhing. He cautiously approached her to survey the damage up close. Her face was twisted in pain, her skin flushed and sweaty, her body shaking in agony. He reached out to touch her arm and she recoiled with a howl of pain.

"I can barely touch her to treat her," Rosie whispered, "It's been horrible."

Davenport opened her eyes and locked sight with him.

"Seth, help me! Please…I can't."

He couldn't stand and watch a moment longer. "Chamber. Now. I take full responsibility for what happens."

"You're sure?"

"NOW."

"Yes, sir," she snapped to attention. She studied his face in her peripheral as she began gathering up the supplies she needed for the chamber. The sight of Davenport had him frozen to the spot, shaking.

She decided to take pity on him. "I'll let you know when Thelma and I have her in," she offered, "I know you were in the middle of something in the Compost when I called; it'll probably take the same amount of time to get that necessary work done as it will for me to get her situated."

Goddard couldn't help but think that Rosie knew that he was falling apart fast, and was giving him an out. But if he wanted to keep his composure, an out was exactly what he needed right now.

"Call me immediately after," he ground out.

"I will," she replied, nodding to him as he sailed back though the jump tubes to the safety of the Compost, where he could re-fasten his Commander mask that he felt slipping in the confines of the medlab.

Space hated when you couldn't pull yourself together.

* * *

She was eerily calm and still when in the chamber.

Was this what it was like for them to watch him for a whole month while he was in? He wondered. He suddenly felt guilty—the silence was deafening and haunting.

"It seems like the chamber is helping the bleeds, and not a moment too soon," Rosie explained, "There was some compromise to the large vessels in her abdomen. Probably would have killed her bowels if not outright killed her had they bled out. She's stabilizing, though; the chamber has done great at healing up her insides."

"The fever?"

"I can monitor it while she's in. She's high, but it's a stable and not an overly dangerous high."

He swallowed. "And her pain is controlled?"

"She's comatose, more or less. Doesn't feel a thing."

He sighed. "Good."

"I'm going to grab a hot shower and a brief nap since she seems to be stable for now. Thelma will alert me if she needs me back here."

"Of course. Thank you for your hard work, Rosie."

"Of course. Miss Davenport is the best teacher I've ever had. I hate seeing her like this."

He gave her a small smile of reassurance as she disappeared through the jump tubes.

With a tremendous, shaky sigh, he pulled up Rosie's examination stool to the chamber, sat, and waited.

* * *

When Rosie returned 5 hours later, she didn't know whether or not she was shocked that Commander Goddard was still there, sitting by the chamber, looking morosely at the floor.

"It's 2300," she began, "I recommend a little sleep."

Goddard said nothing.

"We're all upset that Miss Davenport isn't well, but we all need to take care of ourselves. Even you."

Again, he did not reply.

"Commander…"

Before he could think not to, he spoke.

"It's my fault she's like this."

Rosie looked shocked. "Sir?"

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. "I teased her about wearing a uniform on our outing. Had I just left her the hell alone, she'd have been covered, and safe. I don't…I don't know why I give her a hard time over stuff like that. Now she's paying for it."

Rosie sighed, and pulled up a chair next to Goddard's.

"Permission to speak freely?" She asked.

"Go ahead."

"You tease her because she lets you. She picks at you because you let her."

He looked at Rosie inquisitively.

"As a Mercurian, it's not a conventional way of doing things, but it's obvious why you both do it."

"Obvious why I tease her continuously?"

She nodded. "You can't stop flirting with her."

Goddard sputtered. "Where are you even getting that idea? I'm not FLIRTING."

"No, you definitely are. The whole crew agrees. Even Thelma has figured it out."

Thelma poked her head in from the storage room. "Oh, yes. It is an odd way of courtship, but one sometimes practiced by the human species. It builds up what is referred to as 'The Sexual Tension.'"

"Thank you, Thelma," Goddard said through gritted teeth.

"It feels like you two are…dancing around each other," Rosie continued, "But you care so much, you two at least flirt. A lot. A WHOLE lot."

"I think I would have noticed if she was flirting with me."

"Not if you're willfully blind to it."

Goddard looked at her, incredulous. "You DO remember you're speaking to your commanding officer, right?"

"I got permission to speak freely to him."

"I rescind that."

"Before you do," Rosie giggled, "Just try to take a little comfort in the fact that teasing her is exactly what Miss Davenport WANTS you to do. She'll deny it to the end of the galaxy, but her eyes betray her—she wants you to flirt with her. When she's well again, let yourself see it for once; you'll be surprised how right we are about all this."

"If you say so," he said, rising from his seat.

"Going to sleep, I hope?" She asked.

"Going to make my best attempt, anyway. Not sure if I thank you for the conversation, but for the company, at least,"

"I accept the 'thank you' for company. You can thank me later for helping you see the light. I wouldn't be opposed to you two naming your first baby 'Rosie.'"

"Goodnight, Rosie," Goddard muttered and rolled his eyes.

She giggled, and waved him goodbye as he disappeared to his quarters.

* * *

An attempt was made, but he didn't really sleep.

He was sure he looked like hell as he stood at the front of the compost, leaning against the helm, staring through the viewport, saying nothing. The helm and the soothing familiarity of a bridge were the only two things keeping him upright.

Harlan and Radu were hovered over Radu's station, working, but they were both surveying their commanding officer out of the corners of their eyes. Goddard ignored them until Harlan felt the need to say something.

"Hey, Commander. Radu and I have a handle on mapping out the routes in this sector. And nothing's going on. If you want to, you can chill in your quarters and get some rest."

"I don't want to," Goddard muttered.

Harlan and Radu exchanged looks.

Radu tried next. "If you don't want rest, maybe you could spend some time in the medlab?"

"Is there a reason you want me out of the Compost, gentlemen?

"No," Radu was taken aback.

"Then leave me alone and let me stay where I'd like to."

Radu silenced, but Harlan was driven into further interrogation. "Commander, what's up with you?"

"It's none of your business, Mr. Band."

"You're acting damn weird," Band continued, "Is this because of Miss Davenport?"

"I said it's none of your business, Harlan, now butt out."

Radu stepped in again. "Rosie told us at breakfast that she was making some progress. That's good, right?"

Goddard grunted in response.

Harlan returned to leading the line of questioning. "Look, I know you're probably lonely without her, but—"

"I'm not LONELY, Mr. Band. Enough."

"You miss her, though," Radu pointed out, uncharacteristically challenging his commanding officer's patience directly. "That's okay. We get it."

"Totally," Harlan agreed, "We know you're like, a thing."

Goddard whirled on them. "We are not a thing!"

"C'mon, Commander. The only thing we haven't caught sight of you two doing is making out. And I'm sure we'll catch you one day."

"Band, out of the Compost."

"What? For telling the truth?"

"I think Harlan is just trying to say that he understands why you're more torn up than anyone else on board," Radu soothed, "We all care about her, but not on the same level as you do. I'm sure it makes it hurt more."

"What are you talking about?" Goddard threw his hands up.

"We're not in love with her," Harlan shrugged.

Goddard narrowed his eyes. No, the Compost was sacred. The Compost was where he kept his control, his sanity. Here was the only place he could hide behind his role and not think too much about…things. They couldn't do this to him.

"Both of you. Out."

"Commander—" Radu rushed to apologize.

"Dismissed. Out."

Harlan and Radu exchanged worried glances, then headed for the door.

"It's okay to be torn up over someone you love," Harlan threw over his shoulder, "That's all I want to add."

And the two crew members left him to solitude.

He paced the Compost twice, then gripped the cold metal of the Engineering console in his hands.

Sacred and safe. He put Harlan and Radu out of his mind and grasped furiously at his control.

* * *

It was another day in the chamber for her and a day for him to trudge through with only the slightest bit of sleep. His nightmares about losing her had devolved into disappointing his entire crew with his poor decision making. It was getting harder for him to hold onto his confidence by the minute, but he had to fake it. That was his duty, after all.

The command post was nearly dead silent this morning, the only trace of life the clinking of Suzee's tools as she replaced the interface on Bova's station. Harlan and Radu made a concerted effort not to look directly at him while they quietly navigated the mild solar storm ahead. He was grateful for the silence, and even a little impressed when he noticed that the two young men previously at constant loggerheads had seemingly managed to master some sort of silent communication. Perhaps he could marvel over how far the two had come at a different time, when he had the energy to do so. Even Suzee refrained from talking at all, and he surmised that the boys had told her that they had previously been thrown out of the command post the day before after trying his patience.

Good, he thought; he didn't have much resolve left for anything otherwise.

Silence reigned until Thelma entered the Compost, humming a jaunty tune to herself.

Radu gave her a little wave.

She raised an android eyebrow at him, then looked between Harlan and Suzee, who both only offered strained smiles as greeting.

"Oh dear," she said, "Is this the Earther parenting tradition of 'time out?' Is that why you don't speak? What did you do to warrant punishment?"

Harlan grinned a genuine grin before returning to a neutral expression. "Nothing like that. Just a quiet day, I guess. Besides, I don't think the Commander can put us in time out. The brig, maybe."

Thelma blinked. "I assumed that because the Commander seems to serve the role of commanding officer and father figure, that he could wield such power. Did I get it wrong? Can only your biological parents give 'the time out?'"

Harlan shook his head. "No, the Admiral gave me plenty of them," he said wryly, "They're for kids, though."

"But you are kids, especially compared to the commander. By my calculations, he's old enough to be any one of your fathers," Thelma pointed out.

"Is that why you think him a father figure?" Radu asked.

"No. Warlord Shank meets age criteria, but no other. Commander Goddard meets several of the criteria based on both Earther and Rigelian standards. If regulations can be trusted, I do not think a STARDOG gets as intimately involved in your personal growth as he does. That, according to most cultural definitions I could access on the space net, is the role of a parent. Logically, he is your parental stand-in since we are so far from yours."

Harlan chuckled. "I guess that works. I'd take the Commander over Admiral Stick-in-the-mud any day."

Goddard shut his fatigued eyes and sighed to himself. Goddamn Thelma. He was buckling under the pressure of command at the moment—he didn't need the pressure of "fatherhood."

"I'm going to the medlab," he muttered, "Hold the fort, Mr. Band. Let me know if things start going off plan."

"Yes, sir," Harlan answered, watching him disappear through the automatic door.

"Hmm," Thelma said once the door shut, "Perhaps I should not have reminded him that he is old enough to have a child of 19. My research on human males indicates that they can be irrationally sensitive about middle and old age. Often they report feeling impotent."

Suzee and Radu facepalmed, while Harlan retuned to manning the helm, howling with laughter.

* * *

Rosie smiled at him when he entered the medlab the next day.

"Today's the day!" She chirped. While he appreciated all she had done to this point, her chipper voice was like grinding to his sleep-deprived ears.

"For..?"

"Her scans have been clean for 12 hours. I feel comfortable taking her out of the chamber."

He blinked at her, processing the information, taking a long minute to figure out what she was telling him.

"Her injuries have healed, then?"

"Yup!" She smiled, "I started up the protocol to ween her off the sedatives about 20 minutes ago and am ready to pull her out. I could use a hand—she'll probably be too much dead weight for just me, and Suzee needed Thelma this morning."

He nodded, and followed her to the side of the chamber. Rosie's fingers flew over the side panel, provoking a series of sounds that he hoped correlated to good functions. The chamber door unsealed with a hiss, and cool air came rushing out the cracks of the seal. Rosie pushed the door completely open, and Goddard could feel the cold air of the chamber diffusing into the surrounding air of the medlab. Rosie reached over and shook the teacher by the shoulder brusquely, loudly calling her name. Davenport's eyes scrunched in response, but did not open.

"She's on her way off the medication," Rosie nodded, satisfied, "Let's get her out and back to a normal med bed; I want to restart her antivirals."

She unwrapped the shroud-like inner covering over the teacher's body, revealing her bare form submerged in a healing gel-like material that smelled strongly of a combination of alcohol and something resembling artificial citrus. Goddard had little time to be embarrassed by his access to the view as Rosie turned to him.

"Can you lift her?" She asked.

He nodded, reaching into the chamber and taking her in his arms, one tucked under her knees, the other around her shoulders. She was a heavy dead lift, and he felt the strain in his back, but he managed to stand upright and clear the chamber walls by force of will. Rosie approached him and quickly covered Davenport with an examination robe, covering her delicate parts.

"Just over there," she pointed to the bed.

He slowly walked her over, holding her close to warm her body, cooled from the gel. He sat on the edge of the bed to further adjust the covering on her body before he would attempt to place her upon it. Davenport moaned slightly, gripping the garment closer to her with her left hand and pulling his own jacket closer to her with her right. She tucked her face into the wool of his jacket.

She muttered his name so quietly he almost missed it. But it was enough to break him. He curled around her body, placed his forehead on her damp hair, and sobbed.

Somewhere in the haze he felt Rosie watching, and noticed when she simply turned from them and walked into the supply room to do nothing at all and allow him to save a little face.

He was glad for the time. Now that he was started, he found he couldn't stop.

He cursed Space for his loss of composure. He thanked Space for her.

* * *

He had composed himself some time later and stood silently as Rosie administered some antivirals and covered her body with warm blankets. He thought to run off after his shameful showing, but Rosie had already been privy to it all, and so he figured that running off now would be fruitless. Satisfied with her work, Rosie turned to him.

"She's comfortable and only minorly febrile. I'm so happy with how far she's come."

"You've done a remarkable job," he said quietly.

She smiled, then motioned to her exam stool. "You need a minute to relax, Commander. It's been a long time getting to this point."

He shook his head.

Rosie ignored him and as forcefully as she had ever done, she pushed him onto the stool.

"Doctor's orders."

He sighed wryly, but stayed on the stool. Rosie disappeared for a moment and he sat in silence until she returned with steaming hot coffee.

"Black. As you normally have it."

"Thanks."

Rosie pulled up a chair and the two of him stared at Davenport for a short moment.

"I hope you'll keep what transpired here quiet," he said, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

Rosie gave him a small smile. "No one will fault you that. It could have easily happened to any of us."

"It's not supposed to happen to ME."

"Why not? Commander, you're only human. And that's not a bad thing—it's why we love and respect you."

He blinked at her.

"But I won't say anything. Promise."

He nodded in acknowledgement.

"You'll say nothing?"

"Nope."

He swallowed. "I think I might be in love with her," he muttered.

Rosie looked at him a moment. "Commander?"

"What?"

"If you're hoping this doesn't get out, let me just say that when you get wind of it from the others, it wasn't me who told. This is literally the worst kept secret ever."

He chuckled slightly. "Harlan seems to have that impression."

"We ALL have that impression."

"Keep it quiet anyway."

"As you wish," she shrugged, before smiling at him and placing a hand on his shoulder, "Well, since I worked so hard to get her through this, consider it a favor to me to maybe think about telling her yourself. I'm a hopeless romantic, Commander, and watching you two is KILLING me."

"Thanks for your hard work, Rosie. Truly," was all he said.

Rosie sighed internally, but knew that it was a big enough step for him to at least admit that his feelings for her were now on his mind. She'd get satisfaction at seeing her teachers happy someday.

Plus, she still had at least 2 months until her next bet in the crew pool. She could wait.

* * *

"Goodnight, Commander," she waved, before entering the jumptubes and disappearing.

He hadn't realized that his lack of sleep had caught up with him until he felt her fingers in his hair and noticed he had fallen asleep on the med stool, using the bed as a makeshift, uncomfortable pillow. Her fingers shifted then, slowing stroking the hair at his temples. It took him a moment to realize such a movement was intentional, and turned his eyes up at her, confirming his thoughts—she was awake.

"You were out cold, Commander," she spoke softly, "I didn't have the heart to wake you, though your positioning looks most uncomfortable."

"T.J….when did you wake up?" He wondered.

She thought for a moment. "An hour ago. Maybe two. I felt much improved since we last saw each other, but you looked worse for the wear. I figured there was no sense in waking you just because I was."

He sat up, taking a moment to rub the tightness out of his neck. She shifted in bed to sit up herself.

"You probably shouldn't…" he said, gently trying to redirect her into a laying position.

She waved him off with a hand. "Don't fuss. I really am feeling better. Just a bit warm and tired. I'm not about to go run a marathon about the ship."

He sat on the edge of the bed in order to meet her eyes. However ashamed he felt, she deserved to be addressed directly for this.

"T.J., I am so, so sorry."

"For?"

He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. She was owed a good apology, one where he kept his nerve and voice steady. "For all this. I should have left you alone while we were on planet. I shouldn't have goaded you into changing clothes. I knew that you'd likely rise to my challenge, and so it's fully my fault this all happened. You suffered all week because of me. I can probably never apologize enough, but at least let me start here."

She blinked at him twice. "You can't possibly be serious in thinking that this is your fault."

He gaped at her a bit. "But…" he croaked out. He stopped for a moment, trying to regain his voice.

It was enough of a gap for her to start chiding him. "Honestly, Seth Goddard, you think you command the universe so fully that I'd not have had an equally good chance of getting bitten on some exposed skin if you hadn't any role at all? And besides, I'll have you know that there's not a damn person in this universe who would be able to force my hand and change if I didn't desire it. Not even you."

"I…" he started.

"And furthermore," she continued, "You look a bloody wreck, which probably means you've been letting this eat at you for a while. How dare you assume how I felt about the situation. Surely you know better."

He hung his head. She was angry at him, though not for what he had expected.

"I do. I'm sorry, I just…"

She sighed. "You need to stop doing things like this. I've been seeing you take more and more of the failings of the journey personally. It hurts, seeing you flagellate yourself over everything. You deserve better."

And now she was comforting him? He was already jumbled, so frayed, so on edge, he didn't know how to cope with a sudden change of tone. He looked up at her, and wanted to scream internally when his eyes suddenly blurred with tears without his permission.

Her face softened and she reached for his hand. "Seth…"

He shook his head furiously as he willed his eyes to hold in the tears as he took his hand out of her reach. "No. I'm being pathetic. Space hates weakness."

She sighed before leaning forward and slipping her arms around him. "There are weaknesses, even in the fabric of space."

The warmth of her arms, the tingle of her breath on his neck, the rumble of her voice through her chest, the feel of her heart through her hospital garb had him melting into her embrace. Closer to feeling her life, head tucked into her shoulder so that she could not directly see his traitorous tears as they left his eyes.

She held him, giving him soft reassurances as she stroked his hair, his neck. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, and she understood, completely; his time in the chamber had stripped her raw several times. She simply had had more time to cope with it and less of a reputation of being strong about all situations, no matter how dire.

When he felt composed enough, he withdrew from her embrace, scrubbing at his face with his hands to erase the tear streaks.

"Better?" She smiled.

"A little, actually, yes. Thank you for letting me have that."

"You can trust me with anything eating at your heart and mind, you know that, right?"

He sighed. She had never directly told him to withhold his thoughts and feelings; he had been the one to hold them captive.

"Of course, thank you."

She touched his shoulder, reassuringly.

He seemed to think for a minute, then said, softly, "I've missed you terribly."

She smiled warmly. "Why is that?"

"You're…my dearest friend," he said lamely.

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows before smiling coyly, "That's not what you told Rosie."

His eyes widened. "Told Rosie what? When?"

"Last night," she said, smirking, "After you made her swear to secrecy."

"You HEARD that?" He sputtered incredulously.

"I was tired, not deaf."

He turned bright red, and she laughed at his expense.

"Oh, Seth, it's been a long week for you, hasn't it?"

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

She pulled away his arms, looking him in the eye.

"Once you know whether or not you love me, be sure to let me know. But know I've…been waiting a while already," she finished shyly.

His jaw dropped. "Does that mean you…?"

"This is not about me," she looked away, red-faced and embarrassed, "You're the one who needs to do some more thinking."

He paused for a silent moment, then said resolutely, "I've thought about it."

She looked at him, annoyed, "Well I think—"

He pressed his mouth firmly against hers, ending her thought there. They came up, looking for air moments later, studied each other's face, then pulled together fiercely again, mouths crashing together, arms wrapped around each other.

He positively clung to her, kissing her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, doubling his efforts every time she lulled her head back and moaned softly.

"I love you," he muttered into her skin as he nipped away at it, "I love your beautiful body, I love your smart brain, I love that posh accent of yours, I even love how absolutely infuriating you are sometimes. You drive me mad and I love it. I love you. I've made up my mind. I'd take you here if you weren't still convalescing."

She pulled away from him and regarded him with wide, dark eyes before leaning in and kissing behind his ear. "You'd better make good on that once this fever breaks," she moaned in his ear, "Space hates when you don't follow through on promises like that."

He grunted in affirmation and then pulled her back to his lips.

They were oblivious to the door to the medlab sliding open until Harlan walked through it.

"Hey, Commander, "he began, "Rosie sent me up here to drag you to breakfast and—holy shit."

The two adults sprang apart.

Harlan flashed a thousand watt grin. "I TOLD you we'd catch you tongue wrestling, Commander."

"OUT, MR. BAND."

"With pleasure," Harlan bowed, "You crazy kids keep it PG-13 in here. I have a betting calendar to check."

Whistling all the while, Harlan retreated through the doors.

"Remind me to give him double duty," Goddard said wryly.

"Remind me to give them all a pop quiz to top it off for their little 'bet,'" she replied.

"Devious, T.J.."

"Thank you."

He regarded her with clouded eyes. "I dare say I find it a little…attractive."

She grinned at him before calling into the room. "Computer, lock the medlab doors, please."

At the sound of the lock, she grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him in again.


End file.
